


To Break Every Rule

by Dreaming_in_Circles



Category: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011)
Genre: Angst, Philosophy - sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 14:51:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1189233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_in_Circles/pseuds/Dreaming_in_Circles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They broke into buildings, disrupted people’s lives, and murdered, lied, and cheated their way into secrets that more often than not didn't get them anywhere.<br/>And all for what?</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Break Every Rule

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, this piece is not beta'd or brit-picked, so please tell me if you see anything. Enjoy.

Sometimes, he just had to stop and wonder at life. He had to wonder if they were really doing the right thing. They broke into buildings, disrupted people’s lives, and murdered, lied, and cheated their way into secrets that more often than not didn’t get them anywhere.

And all for what? What was the goal? What was the attempt for? What was the point? All the sacrifice, all the loss. Would they ever accomplish ‘it?’ The goal? The unreachable perfection they were all hoping for?

And what _was_ _‘it?’_ One would think that would be obvious, and maybe it was, to everyone but him. But he’d been at the Circus most of his life; he’d never questioned it before. And that young love of adventure – what had driven him here in the first place – had long been tempered by time.

‘It’ was probably an end of the Soviet Union, because an end to communism was just too high-and-mighty. It was just too lofty to even consider. So, an end to the all-powerful Mother Russia. That was do-able. Countries rose and fell every day, the Soviet Union one day might be no different.

That was, unless she toppled Britain first.

Now _that_ was a disturbing thought. But unlikely. Britain had held out before, and she would now. She was sturdy, tough; she wouldn’t give up without a fight. And people certainly knew what was at stake, didn’t they? Probably not to the fullest extent; those small little people who didn’t know a fraction of what he knew…

But that was a good question. What _was_ at stake? The obvious answer was Britain. But what would happen if she fell? _How_ would she fall? What would that look like? He’d never been to Soviet Russia, but he would imagine that it was not a happy place. He’d been told it was downright terrible.

Would that be how Great Britain fell to her knees? Not in name, but in ideals? Would that be how she died? And would it be so bad?

Yes, he decided immediately. Soviet Russia was a nerve-wracking hell-hole where souls go to die. At least, that’s how it sounded when it was described. People said they had an abundance of snow, shortages, and fear. That was not a place he wanted to live.

Okay. That was most likely how Britain would die. And the goal was to make sure that didn’t happen? Probably. And defeating Soviet Russia was probably also on that list, but, at least for him, the former was the more important goal.

So. What he was doing was worthwhile, then. Yes? It had a worthy goal, a meaningful goal. Something that he was willing to fight for, as cliché as it was. Did that one, noble goal make it all better? Was one thing, an ideal, really worth all the blood and sweat and pain? Was it worth the deaths of those close and far? Was it worth the suffering it caused? To all involved?

Did the ends justify the means? And was the goal worth all they gave up? Did it deserve it?

He couldn’t answer that. He didn’t know how. He didn’t know what the right answer was. He didn’t know much of anything, anymore.

He knew that he was lonely. And sad. He knew that he missed the comfort of waking up next to someone and coming home to someone. Someone you loved.

But what he’d felt while they were going after the spy… That made him think he wouldn’t be able to do anything but this. He knew he could do the most good here. Plus, it was just plain exciting.

“Mr. Guillam.” A female voice interrupts his thoughts. Peter looks up to see Belinda standing in the doorway of his office. “Mr. Smiley would like to see you.” She continued.

“Yes. Thank you.” Peter told her, and she nodded and left. Peter stood, took a deep breath, straightened his suit, and walked out of his office.

The Circus looked no different than normal, and he moved quickly though it to the conference room. Smiley was sitting in his usual place at the head of the table, reviewing some file. Peter hesitated on the doorstep and he looked up, looked Peter in the eye, and Peter knew he simply had to stay. All doubt was gone in an instant when he looked at Smiley, and he couldn’t explain why.

Maybe it was the air of calm confidence and intelligence Smiley carried about him. Maybe it was his rational and logical mind that always seemed to work its way to the bottom of an issue. Maybe it was his common sense when it came to the spy business. Somehow, it made everything seem just a little less messy and a little less futile.

“Come in, Peter.” Smiley said, a small hand movement gesturing him to take a seat. Peter let a smile creep over his face and climbed into the sound-proof room. Another job. Another puzzle. Excellent. 


End file.
